


as the love that's gonna shine

by pearwaldorf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, Same-Sex Marriage, US Legalization of Same-Sex Marriage, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I see the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. I understand if you don’t want to get married. It doesn’t make your relationship any less valid. But I also think you’re the type that wants to stand in front of God and everyone else and shout your love to the heavens.”</p><p>In which Steve Rogers shares his unique historical perspective, discusses the nature of marriage, plans a wedding, and gets something lost returned to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as the love that's gonna shine

**Author's Note:**

> I am immensely grateful to [atrata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata/pseuds/atrata) for fixing my dialogue tags and [longwhitecoats](http://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/pseuds/longwhitecoats) for telling me I needed to place my Chekov's gun better. 
> 
> Title is from Vienna Teng's "[City Hall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxZSJAEpQko)", because how could I not?

Steve’s in the middle of some paperwork when his phone buzzes. Darcy’s sent him an excited text with lots of rainbow and party hat(?) emojis. It’s followed closely by a news alert on his phone, and he thumbs open the screen. Reading the webpage and looking through the tearfully joyous pictures already streaming in, he smiles. Suddenly, paperwork seems much less relevant than a few minutes ago.

Feeling a vague urge for company, he heads to the HQ’s common room, where there’s a big TV. Wanda is playing with her phone and half keeping an eye on the news, as stern-faced talking heads pontificate in front of people cheering and waving rainbow flags. Natasha’s watching on the couch, a small smile on her face and a suspicious glimmer in her eye. He pretends not to notice, but nudges her as he sits down. She presses against him, just for a moment before settling back into her own space. 

“A question, if I may, Captain Rogers?” Vision wanders in from somewhere. In an attempt to differentiate between his on- and off-duty times, he’s materialized sweatpants and a hoodie, similar to what Sam and Natasha wear when they’re lounging. It’s amusingly incongruous, to see a being so normally collected and elegant sporting such a casual get-up. 

“I’ll do my best,” Steve says, not exactly sure where this is going. 

“You’ve seen a great deal of history, both American and not. This gives you a unique perspective among us. Did you think this was something that would happen within your lifetime?” 

Steve thinks about the coded nature of gay life in the 20s and 30s, the way he and Bucky learned where it was safe to be open, and found places to run when the police inevitably came. He remembers acquaintances he saw regularly and then didn’t, who were outed or sent away to be “fixed.” Sometimes they came back, with haunted looks or a defiant jut to their chins. He’s caught up on a lot since coming out of the ice. Progress can be agonizingly slow, and occasionally reactionaries get the upper hand. But haltingly, and sometimes in great waves, things move forward.

“I had no doubt.” 

Vision tilts his head, a thoughtful smile on his face, as if that was not the answer he expected, but he is pleased nonetheless.

\--

“I don’t know, Peg. We have the paperwork in place already, and it’s not like his family would shut me out if something were to happen, or--” He shuts his mouth when Peggy makes a motion with her hand.

“I understand the concerns around the practicalities, and you have advantages and means that have enabled you to take care of those.” The briskness in her voice fades, and her expression softens. “But that’s not what you called me to talk about, is it?” She’s always known him so well. It still makes his chest hurt a little, thinking about what might have been, but she’s here now, and that’s what’s important.

“No, I suppose not.” He smiles, slow and a little rueful. “Do you think I should ask?”

She leans forward, with a little bit of difficulty. “Steve, listen to me. I think we both know how rare it is to get a chance to grasp upon something beautiful and grand, and how quickly it can slip away. I spent years of my life wishing you’d had that opportunity, and then you came back.” Her voice still breaks whenever she says that. “I see the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. I understand if you don’t want to get married. It doesn’t make your relationship any less valid. But I also think you’re the type that wants to stand in front of God and everyone else and shout your love to the heavens.” She smiles, beautiful and brilliant as always, and Steve laughs, because he knows she’s right. 

“Only if you’re there for the wedding,” he replies. 

“How can you even think such a thing? You still owe me a dance.” 

\--

Sam’s reading in bed when Steve finally comes in. He shucks off his clothes and sits down on the bed, grateful to be off his feet. Sam ruffles his hair absentmindedly, absorbed in his book. 

“Hell of a news day, wasn’t it?” Steve hopes he sounds casual, nonchalant. 

“Sure was. There’s a lot of people in places like Atlanta that can get married now, and I’m thrilled. Gonna see a lot of announcements on Facebook soon, I think.” Sam turns a page. “Probably a lot of invitations too. ‘Cause if I was going to do it, I’d want to get married at home. I imagine a lot of other people feel the same way.” There’s a bit of wistfulness in his voice, the way there always is whenever he talks about his place of birth and the South. He likes New York and Avengers HQ well enough, but it’s not _home_ , not like Brooklyn is for Steve. Of course he’d want to get married there. 

Steve’s so busy trying to summon up enough courage to pop the question he doesn’t notice Sam’s put his book away. He’s smiling, the soft gorgeous one he gets when he’s happy and at ease, and thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the world. It makes Steve’s mouth go dry every single time.

“Do you want to be one of those people?” Sam asks. It takes Steve a moment to realize he’s been outmaneuvered, and he laughs. Steve’s seen the way Sam gets at weddings, how he watches the happy couple, a small smile on his face, soaking all that happiness in. Of course Sam’s been thinking about this as much as he has, and probably had a plan since before he walked in the door. It then occurs to Steve that he has indeed been proposed to and should probably say something. 

“More than anything. I mean yes! Yes.” 

Sam kisses him easy and slow, and for the first time Steve feels truly invincible.

\--

Natasha walks past Steve and Sam in the hallway, somehow managing to carry on a video conversation with Sam’s cousin Ellington at the same time. They’re deep in a heated discussion about bachelor party logistics, and it sounds vehement enough that they get out of her way well in advance. 

“Does your cousin know that she always gets her way in the end, one way or another?” Steve asks Sam. 

“I think he’s gonna find out, the more they coordinate as bests.” Sam starts to smile, and then doesn’t. He leans against the wall, a faraway look in his eyes. “Riley would have known this was a war he couldn’t win from the start.” 

There’s nothing Steve can say to that, so he laces his fingers into Sam’s. Sam squeezes back. 

\--

Steve never anticipated weddings being this much work. Even though Ms. Potts recommended a very capable planner, there’s still so much they need to sign off on, and discussion when they don’t see eye to eye. (He never expected disagreements—much less an awkward shouting match—over something as ridiculous as color schemes.) By mutual agreement, they’re taking a couple hours apart. It’s better for everybody this way.

He finds Wanda in the practice room, staring out at the nothing that surrounds the training facility and drinking out of a mug. She notes his presence but doesn't acknowledge it.

"What are you drinking?" He tries for something neutral, inconsequential.

"Vanilla latte." 

He lifts an inquiring eyebrow and she cradles the mug in her hands. Living together in the same-ish space (the facility can hardly be called small), it's impossible not to pick up on the others' habits. Wanda drinks Turkish coffee when they aren’t scrambling madly to prepare for an op or mission, the little cups of strong, fragrant brew perfuming the kitchen. 

“Pietro liked them.” Her voice is steady, although he doesn’t know if that’s for his benefit or hers.

“My ma used to make apple cake every year for my birthday. For months after she died, I couldn’t so much as look at it.” 

She nods, her expression softening just a fraction. He stares out into the distance, watching the mist thicken over the fields. “I keep thinking about people who should be here and aren’t.” 

He firms his jaw, swallowing down the grief. A small hand squeezes him on the shoulder in understanding.

“Would you like to talk about it? They tell me that it helps, eventually.” She smiles wryly, and he finds his mouth twitching upward in response.

“Yeah, I think I would.”

\--

The days counting down to the wedding are so busy Steve doesn’t have time to think, much less dwell. And then, just like that, it arrives, and he’s in a hotel room, getting ready. Natasha makes him sit down on the bed so she can adjust his bow tie without having to stand on her tiptoes. Looking up at her, a memory flashes: another set of hands, a strip of worn silk around his neck looped into a full Windsor, because _we’re not savages, Stevie_. He takes a deep breath. Natasha stops fussing. 

“Are you all right?” Her voice is concerned.

“I don’t know.” The ache in his chest is familiar, something he’s learned to live with, although it usually isn’t this strong. “I thought we’d have found him by now.” He never thought he’d get married, but he always hoped. And in those vague hopes, Bucky was always there. There is an overwhelming sense of wrongness, sitting in this tuxedo without him, and some part of Steve breaks. He slumps down at the foot of the bed, tears hot down his cheeks. Natasha sits down next to him, a solid presence if he wants her. The sobs tear through him quietly, making him shake. A moment or minutes pass, until he finds himself drained and strangely calm. She reaches out and takes his hand.

“We’ll keep looking. And we’ll find him.” Her conviction is reassuring, bolstering. He sniffs and nods.

Once he's composed, she becomes eminently practical, handing him a box of tissues, making sure he looks presentable. She puts a flower in his lapel, adjusting it until she’s satisfied. Before she leaves to go take care of her other wedding duties, she fixes him with a look. 

“He’d be here if he could. You know that. But there’s a room full of people out there who are there for you now, and want to see you happy.” She kisses his cheek. “Including me.” He feels an overwhelming urge to hug her tightly, and so he does. She pushes him away gently, her eyes brighter than normal. 

“Stop that. You’ll wrinkle your tux.” 

\--

The music starts, and he walks down his aisle, toward the altar that stands where his and Sam’s paths meet. They rehearsed this, of course, but it feels completely different doing it for real. He catches Sam’s eye, and his chest aches again, but with joy overflowing. 

The officiant starts in on his speech, and Steve tries to pay attention, but all he can really do is stare at Sam, who’s so beatifically happy he’s practically glowing. And then the door opens, loud in the quiet. Bucky walks in, followed closely by Wanda. There is a low murmur in the crowd, building in intensity as people start to realize who’s just entered. He’s wearing a suit, somehow impeccably tailored. His eyes are clear, and his smile is wide. Steve steps towards him, hand stretched out. Bucky pulls him in and hugs him fiercely, desperately, like he never wants to let him go again. 

“Stevie.” There’s so much contained in that one word, the way Bucky breathes it against his ear. “I’m sorry I was away for so long.” Apology and regret are on his face, but also a serenity that wasn’t there before. Steve’s not naive enough to believe that everything’s going to be magically all right, not after all they’ve both been through, but Bucky’s _here_ , and that’s what matters.

He buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder, and a weight that he’d become used to carrying is now absent. 

“But. How?” he says eloquently. Bucky jerks his head toward Wanda, who’s been hovering quietly. 

“As Pietro was part of me, he is part of you. It was easy once I knew how to look.” She smiles, pleased and sad, as she squeezes Steve’s hands. He brings them up to his mouth and brushes her knuckles against his lips. 

“Thank you, Wanda. I can never begin to repay you for what you’ve done, but--” 

“I know you would have done the same, if you could,” she says softly, making a dismissive gesture. He nods, because it’s true. She steps back and takes her seat.

Bucky nudges him. “Besides, I wasn’t going to miss your wedding. You gonna keep Red as your best or let me?” 

“You can have it.” Natasha’s grinning fit to burst as she hands the rings over and lets Bucky take her place. 

The rest of the ceremony is a blur, but Steve commits two things to memory: Bucky handing him and Sam their rings and the first kiss they share as a married couple. The guests cheer at the kiss, but even more wildly as he slings his arms around Bucky and Sam afterward, and he feels like there’s nothing more he could ask for in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> (Vanilla latte headcanon is from imperfectcircle's gorgeous "[Pour Back the Ocean](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086142)", which you should read.)


End file.
